When War Can't Express
by bluelilywater
Summary: If war tears people apart, love is what keeps them together. It's just a matter of how they express it. Mild suggestive themes.
1. Chapter 1

To Find Something Much Sweeter  
Gaius and Panne

Gaius stretched until every joint from his right hand to his lower back popped, arching like a cat and covering as much ground on the green hill as could be humanly possible. "Gods, the sunset's amazing."

"Indeed," Panne responded, sitting tight and cross-legged as he lolled about on the grass. She added, staring up at the clouds, ears twitching, "You'll ruin your cloak rolling about like you are."

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you concerned for my cloak?"

"Perhaps I wish you to sit still?" she proposed, lacing her fingers and leaning a shoulder on the tree beside her. She gazed evenly at the top of his head until he finally looked up.

"Sit still, Whiskers? When I have this much energy? I'll die."

"Foolish. You will not," she said evenly. She reached out a hand to touch his hair, then curled them around his tie. He frowned, but let her pull it off until it was bundled in her hands.

Gaius rolled over so he was on his stomach, head propped on a fist, hair mussed. She smiled.

"You look cleaner without it."

He seemed vaguely affronted. "I've cleaned up quite a bit lately ever since Cordelia's gotten on my case."

She twisted his tie in her hands absently. "Oh, I know. I have noticed."

There was silence while Gaius looked her up and down, perplexed by her absence in thought. "You okay, Panne?"

Panne let out a dreadfully long sigh and laid herself down next to him until their faces were close enough for her to see the gold in his green eyes. "How much do you love me, human?"

His eyes widened perceptibly, pupils dilating, then contracting. "What's the meaning of this?" he said seriously, voice low. He couldn't possibly know how wonderful that possessive growl sounded to her.

She tried to keep her face vastly unchanging from its sullenness, for previously, she was sullen indeed. "Is it not customary, when two humans love each other, that they mate?"

It was then that he grinned. "We are mates, Whiskers. But if it's sex you mean, that's a whole other thing entirely."

"Is it?"

Upside-down in comparison, he leaned in and kissed her. His lips tasted like sugar, honey, and green things– like the air he breathed. It was wonderful. Nothing remotely appalling in it. He was no longer just a human to her, he was hers. He was her mate.

What scent that had repulsed her before in its human-ness no longer was something she noticed. He had a very unique smell. That of ripe fruit, steel, and caramelized sugar.

"Is that what you want, honey?"

"I do not wish for honey, Gaius."

He grinned, eyes crinkling just a little. "It's a pet name."

She frowned. "I am not your pet."

And then he laughed, turning away from her, and she longed for his closeness again as soon as he had– as much as his laughter pleased her ears. "No, you are my dear, sweet, wonderful Panne. You are my love. You are my honey."

"Oh."

He turned back towards her, his breath warm and pleasant. "Yes, oh," he said, and took one hand, laying it on her cheek. She leaned into his touch, and his smile grew wistful.

She was warm and soft. Her eyes had long ago softened with her features– halfway through the bloody war. When she had married him, everything was still new. But suddenly, he felt nearly ashamed. _She _didn't know how much he wanted her. Before, all she knew was that he had her. What else could he need?

Of course, that was a silly question to him, but the softening of her eyes had come with time. She perhaps loved him for how open he was… but this… This was something he had wanted her to find, as much as it drove him insane.

The desire almost took the joy out of sugar, and that was serious.

"But you were saying?" he continued softly, running a rough thumb across one of the lines of her cheek.

His hands were clean and smelling of barley and soap. It was nice, she decided. He smelled tons better when he was clean.

"Sex, you called it?"

His expression turned serious, his pupils becoming abnormally large again. "Yes?"

"Is that not how our son was conceived?"

Gaius could not seem to help it for long. He smiled. "Yes."

She let a sort of confusion come across her features. Her head tilted in and he watched her closely as her ears moved with curiosity. She blinked once, then again, drawing her hand away from the knot of a tie she had made and wandering to his ginger hair. "It is a mystery to me. Is it simply to create offspring, or is it for pleasure? No one can give me a straight answer."

A moment passed as he tried to find words for a specific part of his answer that he wished to get right. He let her fingers run through his hair, closing his eyes because it felt good. "It's both, Panne. It is… it can be… a very fun thing."

Her fingers tensed and he opened his eyes quickly. Somehow, that must have sounded wrong. Her eyes had narrowed. "Have you experienced this… fun before?"

His grin did not put her at ease. "Gods no, Panne. I'm a virgin. Doesn't stop people from talking about it, though– or from me asking."

His words _did_ put her at ease. She relaxed again, tucking her legs up a little. "Continue."

When he laughed, it was short and almost gutless. "I can't, Whiskers. I can tell you– it's fun. It's… something people do when they are in love… but I can't tell you much more."

He knew his words confused her, but she seemed to get the point. "I must experience it, then."

"We," he said, grinning, giving a sigh of relief. "You're doing it with _me_. Got that, Whiskers?"

"Yes."

He leaned in to kiss her again, but she drew away, gazing at him very seriously. That always got him feeling a little warm. "Now?"

For a moment, he seemed completely baffled. "Now as in… you want it now, or you thought _I _wanted it now and you were telling me that it was rather inappropriate?"

"I am impatient."

His breath hitched momentarily and he swallowed. "Okay." He lifted himself to his elbows. "In your tent or– or mine?"

The fact that he was so completely flustered by being caught off-guard amused her immensely. "Will they hear us?"

He blushed completely crimson. "I'd like to think they wouldn't, but I'd better say yes."

She picked herself up after he did, and handed him his tie. As he took it, she caught the wrap of his cloak and kissed him, relishing the sweetness. He moved quickly, as she knew he could in battle. He stowed his scarf in his pocket, then with a strength and determination she enjoyed thoroughly, picked her up and said. "My tent."


	2. Chapter 2

The Troubles of Gynophobia  
Lon'qu and Cordelia

Cordelia, in her nightclothes, crept past the other tents, hoping that no one was awake with their tent flaps open, because honestly, she was only wearing so much under her gray nightgown. Tucking her hair behind her ear and being almost as quick as any good hire-sword, she slipped past the tents until she reached the one she knew nearly as well as her own, though she hardly went inside. After all, she loved him, but by no means wanted him to feel uncomfortable. Tonight, however, she simply could not close her eyes without thinking of him. Tonight, she would ask.

She stopped before its opening, light seeping through the open flap, though a bit dim. She moved silently inside the tent, but only by a little, to gain some view of where he was.

Indeed, he was sitting cross-legged on his cot reading slowly with a candle glowing, casting a gentle light against harsh belongings. His gear was lined conveniently and very neatly near his bed, but not close enough to be dangerous. His knives were covered and his blades sheathed, bells meticulously strung around the sheath to alarm him if one were to touch them without his awareness.

His hair was no longer tidy as it normally was at the start of the day, but clean and slightly wet. His loose undergarment shirt was uncinched at the ties and he was wearing simple pants. He was very focused, otherwise he would have spotted her instantly. She kept gazing at the one she adored with all her strength until he turned a page and caught sight of her, an abnormality against the background.

"Cordelia?" he said.

"Hey, Lon'qu. What are you reading so late at night?"

"Just…" he sighed, placing the book down. "...something. I couldn't sleep."

"Nor could I," she admitted unnecessarily.

He rubbed his eyes and began to get up. Hurriedly, she said, "Oh, no, love. I– I wanted to ask you something."

Instead, she came forward, closing the flap behind her, and knelt at the end of his bed. For a moment, she struggled with words as he settled back down again and waited with tired eyes.

"I– well… Lon'qu, we are married. And– and I would– I was wondering if I could… If I could sleep in your bed tonight," she said, still struggling with the words she had thought over more than a hundred times.

He no longer looked quite as tired. His eyes were sharp against her skin and it made her burn inside. "Cordelia–" he said slowly.

"I– We don't have to do– I just…" she mumbled helplessly, her hands fluttering and eyes locked inexplicably by his.

His iron fingers gripped her wrist. At the touch, the expression around his eyes turned slightly wild, maybe panicked by just a little bit. She didn't want that. "Lon'qu," she said desperately, wishing with distress she hadn't done this. "it's fi–"

His eyes closed as he pressed her fingers to his lips. She could see his face pale slightly in the firelight. "Why didn't you ask before?" he muttered, his voice dark and low, against her hand. His eyes flashed open and caught hers in such bright emotion, she was breathless. _Those eyes…_

"Do you not know I would do anything for you?" he asked her brusquely, lowering her hand, but tightening his grip.

"But– I didn't want… I don't want to _make _you do anything!" she gasped, chest tight, her skin burning where he touched her.

He tensed so suddenly, she was afraid she had said something so terribly wrong and shied away, her eyes pressed closed against the tears.

She felt his touch against her cheek and his hard voice. "_Cordelia._"

_Oh Gods. He was angry…_

She whimpered at his touch, tears spilling down her cheeks. He withdrew and she heard a gasp– a rough, pained noise and she opened her eyes immediately. _She hurt him!_

And indeed, his face was anguished in no way she had ever seen it, as if he had been dealt a death blow. She stumbled to her feet, horrified. "Forgive me, Lon'qu," she sobbed and turned to run.

"No–" he rasped, his lips white and his eyes despairing and desperate. "Come back! Please!"

Cordelia stopped in a lurch, hunched, hands covering her face, shoulders shaking– heart broken.

"Come here," he said hoarsely, his deep voice forced. "Cordelia, please."

She turned and fell to her knees, her fingers clutching her chest, fear betraying her tear-stained face. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have–" she gasped and fresh tears spilled down her face. Never had she been so aware of how strong he was. How he could hurt her if he wanted to. But he already had.

He made an agonized sound deep in his throat as he saw her tears and he reached out for her. "No– stop. Stop crying. I can not bear the sight of it," he said tightly.

So she turned her face away from him, still shaking.

"Cordelia, stop. I had not meant to hurt you. Please, forgive _me." _He caught her shoulder and pulled her into his chest.

Her shuddering gasps of misery only grew more convulsive.

His anguish was deep to have her in tears against him. It was not the way he had wanted it. The least he could do was hold her, try to heal the pain he had dealt her.

His embrace was as gentle as he was holding a glass figurine. He daren't touch her hair or try to kiss her pain away, or hug her to his chest as desperately as he wanted to for fear he would hurt her more than he already had. He had hurt his only love deeper than any wound, but to injure her physically was something he could never make himself do.

Eventually, her sobs ceased to shake her and it was only her in his arms. She clutched him earnestly. She finally spoke, but the words were not what he wanted to hear. "I'm so sorry."

She began to draw away, but his grip then became like a vice. "Don't you _dare_ leave me," he rasped, and he found the courage to press his lips to her wet cheek.

She froze in his hands and he was the one to draw away, paralyzed that he may have upset her.

Her eyes held his, shining with held-back tears. He closed his eyes to the sight, mortified. "Am I– Am I repulsive to you, Lon'qu?" she choked out.

"No!" he cried quietly. "No," he told her directly and fiercely. "You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. It is my body that rebels against me. I am a _coward_," he spat, anger for himself in his eyes.

It was she that touched his face at that moment. "No. You are not. You are brave, and I love you." She was suddenly the stable one and he was the one that was shaken.

He did not strain against her touch as her fingers laced into his hair and her lips touched his. "See?" she said against his lips. He shuddered and his eyes opened very slowly. "It is only me, my love."

Lon'qu seemed to give in so abruptly, it caught her off guard. The kiss was so earnest, and almost grave, she smiled. He began to worry he was doing it wrong, but ignored the thought, determined he would see this through.

He was firm and resolute, while still sincerely genuine, and it made her heart want freedom from her chest– it was all she could do to contain it. So while she smiled in joy, his touch burned like small suns and the cot wasn't really big enough for the both of them. Sometimes his touch would be sincere and gentle, or intense and wild and it threw her in a great emotional turmoil of relief, joy, and love.

Their touches knew each other, unlike before where it was desired, but alien. She flew, and yet he was the one that held her to earth while she drew him up. Barriers meant absolutely nothing.

Every contour of his muscles, every curve of her body and it was a wonder that was so new it was confusing. It was a bit of a tangle at first, but it still _was._

What if they lost each other the next day? What if Grima would take them next? At least they knew they had the chance. This they could do. There were so many things that could be taken away, but he couldn't take away this.


End file.
